The White Dragon
by ErieDragon
Summary: The power of Atlantis is no longer a threat; it is the power of Men that we must now fear.
1. Inauguration

This came in a total brainwave when I woke up this morning. This is the sequel to "Beyond the Moon"; I suggest you read that before this. There are a lot... more than a lot; it's almost _all_ original characters. If I like the plot enough, I may just change the characters and make it into an original story. Anyway, enjoy. I may be changing the title as things progress.

The White Dragon

****

Prologue

"Sayo! It's time for dinner!"

"In a minute, mom!" A small girl sat on the porch, rolling something about in her palms. The sun was setting, casting long, orange bands of light across the street. The child looked young for her age of fifteen, for she was small in womanly features but average in stature. She had bright, red curly hair, which stuck out in bangs in the front and fell down her back in wild waves. It was bound near her neck by a large, blue ribbon, the color of which matched her azure eyes.

She lifted her hand, admiring the object she now held. The black band hung from one finger, and the small, ruby pendant on the bottom dangled and glowed in the waning light.

"Sayonara! It's getting cold!"

"Yes mother!" the girl responded, jumping to her feet and disappearing into the house, the small pendant tucked in her pocket.

****

One

Celena sat in the grass, spreading her gown out around her knees as she set down the picnic basket. A tiny girl went tumbling past, letting out a squeal of delight as she rolled down the hill. Once she reached the bottom she quickly leaped back to her feet, running up to sit beside her mother.

"Wilder, get a sandwich out and sit with me," Celena requested quietly, opening the basket. Wilder glanced up, pushing some of her wild, dark blonde hair out of her face. She had dark, deep amber eyes and fairly tan skin; the whole ensemble was completed by a dark red bottom lip, which was set out in a pout.

"But I wanna fall down the hill again!" Wilder objected, hopping to her feet. Celena shook her head.

"Get something to eat, then you can go play," she replied calmly. The girl sighed, sitting down beside her mother. Celena gave her a sandwich and set about to putting Wilder's dark, wild blonde hair in a rough bun on top of her head. The five year old completely ignored her mother's ministrations and set quickly to her task of eating.

A loud whinny attracted their attention. "Good you've decided to join us," Celena snorted. A horse stood not far off, pawing the ground in earnest. His rider sat still, regarding the land with a pair of bored, pale blue eyes.

He slowly got off, gracefully setting himself down. He seemed to be no more than ten years old, but he had a much older aura. He had cropped, whitish-silver hair, which hung around his forehead in a slightly curly fashion. His eyes were a dull, pale blue, and his face was stark white. He stood tall and lanky, with meatless broad shoulders and a shapely narrow waist, completed with long arms and legs. He wore a neutral expression as he walked towards the two women sitting on the edge of the hill.

"Chesta, is your father coming?" Celena asked, attempting to ignite the boy's interest. Chesta lifted his gaze, regarding her without emotion.

"He will arrive momentarily," he replied, his voice low and toneless. Celena nodded, taking one of Wilder's long locks and braiding it.

"Have a sandwich," Celena offered. Chesta took the object slowly, looking it over thoroughly before taking a bite. The boy turned, taking his horse in his other hand and leading it down the hill towards a post tree.

Wilder ignored her brother, happily wrapping the leftover crusts of bread in its packaging and putting it back in the picnic basket. "Where's papa?" she inquired as Chesta walked back towards them, horse tied to the bare tree at the base of the hill.

"He's coming," Chesta replied, keeping his eyes on his sister. His expression seemed to soften when he saw her, but the flash of affection was dispersed as soon as he looked away. "That stallion he got is being ornery, and he's angry at leaving work early today." Wilder puffed out her bottom lip, looking down.

"Don't worry," Celena assured her, finishing up her hair duty. "It's not our fault the technician went on vacation." The little girl nodded slowly before jumping to her feet. She ran up to her brother, the top of her head barely reaching his stomach. Chesta looked down as Wilder tugged on his pant leg.

"Will you take me riding today?" she asked giddily, her mouth broadening to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. Chesta watched her for a moment before the sound of hoofbeats drew away his attention.

A foaming, sweaty black stallion came hop-skipping up the dell from the small village below. The animal's head jerked every so often, until it was pulled to a not-so-perfect stop a few feet away from the two children. 

"Papa!" Wilder cried happily, waiting in excitement as a tall, silver-haired man jumped off the sweaty horse's back. He grabbed his mount roughly by the reins, glaring at it. The animal's eyes widened, and it quickly stopped its prancing. 

Chesta took the horse from his father, disappearing down the hill without a word. Dilandau looked down, greeted by a pair of bright, maroon eyes. He couldn't help but smile when Wilder eagerly bounced into his arms.

She hugged him tightly, breaking away to grin widely at her father. Dilandau raised one eyebrow, lightly patting her dark blonde head. "Mama braided my hair this morning but it came out when I rolled down the hill so she did it again and Jajuka let me sit on his shoulders today when we went picking apples and big brother just got here a few minutes ago!" Wilder said in one long breath. Dilandau blinked, taking a few moments to process her flow of chatter.

"That's wonderful," he said, setting her on the ground. She smiled widely, running back to sit down beside the picnic basket. Celena looked up, shaking out her dress as she stood. Dilandau walked up to her, lightly kissing her on the cheek.

"How did it go?" she inquired, sitting back down. Dilandau followed suit, Wilder climbing into his lap as soon as he was on the ground.

"It's as obstinate as can be," he replied, rifling through the picnic basket. "It will be good for racing." Celena smiled, looking up as Chesta walked over the hill. The boy sat down some ways from his family, crossing his arms and staring blankly over the small valley. Celena let out a sigh, nudging Dilandau in the shoulder and pointing to their son. Dilandau shook his head, putting a sandwich in his mouth.

"He'll get over it," he assured his wife, picking away the bread crust much like his daughter. Celena sighed.

"I hope you're right," she replied quietly.


	2. The Albatou Household

Two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll. (Either that, or I have no life. I'm going for the latter.)

The White Dragon

****

Two

"Where are we going today, father?"

"To visit your cousins in the outer territory. You remember Chesta and Wilder, don't you?"

Two horses trod slowly down the trail, heading parallel to the distant city walls of Palas. A boy of six or seven sat astride the smaller horse, which he commanded with loving gentleness and a relaxed seat. His father rode a taller beast, his cut, blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail which reached his lower shoulder. The boy had equally blonde hair, but it hung down to his middle back in uneven strokes. His face was soft and smooth, his deep blue eyes bright and lively.

Allen sighed as the morning sun began to rise. They had departed early that morning, riding out of the stable in the still dark of the night. The journey to the outer territory took a good portion of the day, and Allen knew his sister would be angry if they arrived after dinner. She absolutely loved to feed her visitors, especially if they were family.

Antonio had bitterly objected when Allen opted to leave the boy's twin sister behind, but she had contracted a cold only days before. Eries was caring for her, and would soon be taking her to Palas to see if the sickness was anything more serious than a cough.

Allen watched his son with admiration. The boy was always gentle and caring, never dreaming of harming anyone or anything. That particular trait had earned him the preference of most of the horses, dogs, and other various animals that seemed to stop by the house. Antonio had a natural way with things; he always "went with the flow" and always wanted to do what was right. He was incredibly honest and was a great benefactor of justice in the Schezar household.

Allen sighed, brushing a stray lock of his blonde hair out of his face. He hadn't seen his sister or brother-in-law in four years; Antonio and his sister, Marlene, hadn't seen their cousins since the two were less than three years old. Chesta, the older boy and first-born, had been a strange one. He rarely spoke and always seemed to be lurking. His young sister, who was barely a year old when Allen had first seen her, was nothing like any of them. Wilder was incredibly reminiscent of her late grandfather, from her dark skin and hair to her wild and inquisitive personality. Chesta seemed to like her enough, never holding her but allowing her to crawl or walk uneasily with one hand attached to his pant leg behind him.

The knight wrote often to his sister, but she was too busy with her husband and their two children to respond often. From what he knew, Dilandau was working some ways from home in the outskirts of the new Zaibach empire in a guymelef factory. Despite Allen's objections, King Fassa had refused to interfere in the albino's life if he was still within the law. When the knight and his family had visited, Dilandau was in the process of teaching his young son the art of using a guymelef. Dilandau himself never got inside the mobile, but Chesta seemed proficient enough. The boy was definitely skilled with a sword, but Allen had only seen him practicing and had not had the chance to test his theory.

The sun had begun to rise when the two riders finally left the forest. As abruptly as the wide grove of trees ended, an equally vast land of rippling grass greeted them. They were making good time, Allen noted, as they stopped to retrieve some breakfasting food from their packs.

***

Celena lay in bed, blankets tucked up to her chin. She held her book on her chest, attempting to read while keeping the little object upright.

There was a shuffle as Dilandau climbed in beside her, growling at the covers bunched up at his feet. After getting situated, he put out his candle and went down while Celena turned the page.

And he tossed. And turned. After ten minutes of constant movement from the other side of the bed, Celena set her book down with a loud thump. Dilandau sat up, looking at her curiously.

"Will you stop that already?" she growled, flopping back to her pillow. Dilandau sighed, lying down on his back. "What's wrong?"

"There's something that I've been meaning to tell you. It slipped my mind years ago," he replied, fluffing his two feather pillows. Celena raised one eyebrow, turning over to him and tucking the blankets around her shoulders. "Remember when Chesta was born and I first saw him, I said his name, and you decided to keep it because it sounded familiar?" Celena nodded in response. "Chesta... Chesta was the name of one of my top dragonslayers."

"How come you never told me?" she asked, seemingly calm. Dilandau raised his eyebrows in surprise that she hadn't moved to cut off his head.

"I'm not sure. I just thought about it today, I guess. They have the same hair," he responded, letting out a breath he was unaware that he was holding. Celena looked up, crossing her arms over the quilt.

"What is wrong with our son?" she inquired quietly, closing her eyes. Dilandau frowned, reaching one hand under her to gather her up in his arms.

"It's a phase," he replied, lightly kissing her neck. "He'll grow out of it." Celena stifled a giggle as he pecked her ear. 

On the other side of the house, Chesta sat at the small window seat that his father had installed only a year earlier. The boy's mother had noted at an early age that he enjoyed thinking alone, and had suggested it as a place to do his contemplating, for she had had one as a child and as an early adult. Though Chesta had never inquired about the gap of time that Celena seemed to avoid, he knew it was something that involved his father. Compared to children he knew, - he had no real friends - his parents were incredibly close, even after ten and a half years of marriage. In the small town they lived in, there had been talk when Chesta was younger about he being an illegitimate child.

Chesta never cared. He was fond of his parents for everything they did for him, and especially of his father for teaching him ways with a sword and a guymelef, but he didn't really love anyone except his sister.

He sat on the window seat, arms crossed on the sill, the open window panes to either side of him. The white curtain blew in a cool, evening breeze, waving and billowing out like an ivory ghost. The two moons of Gaea hung high in the sky, casting an ethereal glow on the planet. On the lesser moon, or the child of the Mystic Moon, Chesta could quite clearly make out a strange eye shape; he had once commented about it to his little sister, but she had given him a bewildered look, clearly either not having any idea what he was talking about or just not seeing it at all. She was a bright girl, and so it just made him feel even more out of place.

That's what he was. Just a lost boy without a place in the world.

As Chesta mulled over his thoughts, his door opened quietly. The creak of the hinges instantly caught his attention, and he jumped in a defensive position.

A pair of deep, ochre eyes peered into the room, flickering like flames in the moonlight. A lock of dark blonde hair fell out of the shadow, giving away the little girl hiding behind the door.

"Will?" Chesta asked, walking to the door. It opened a little more, allowing the five-year-old to slip into the room.

She let out a cry, grabbing onto his leg. Chesta jumped in surprise, then watched with a furrowed brow as Wilder buried her face in his thigh, letting out a sob.

"What is it?" the white-haired boy pressed, lightly touching his sister's hair with one hand. She sniffled, looking up with a dark, tear-streaked face.

"I had a bad dream," she admitted, still holding onto his pajama bottoms with her hands. Chesta sighed, kneeling down and lightly putting his hands under her arms. He heaved her up with strength he didn't appear to harness and hugged her against his chest. 

"It's alright," he assured her, sitting down on the padded window bench. Still hugging her on his lap, Chesta glanced down. "Tell me about it."

Wilder looked up, wiping her moist eyes with one hand. A curly lock of her blonde hair fell in front of her face, which Chesta batted away in irritation. "You were in it," she sniffled, leaning the side of her forehead against him. "And there was a boy, too. He had yellow hair and really big blue eyes, and he was really tall and stuff. Well, not as tall as you, but he was pretty big." Wilder puffed out her bottom lip, looking up at her big brother. He lightly patted her head. "And there was a girl, too. She was really pretty and not tall like you and the other boy. She had this really cool red hair that went everywhere! Her eyes changed color, though. They were blue, not like yours and not like the other boy's."

Wilder lightly clutched the front of his shirt in one hand, looking down and closing her eyes. She opened her mouth to continue, but paused. "What else?" Chesta prodded lightly, readjusting her on his lap.

The little girl looked up, her lip quivering. "Her eyes looked right into me," she whispered.

***

Allen had sent word of their arrival days before, but he wasn't sure if the note had reached the Albatou house yet. He sighed. He would never get used to calling his own sister "Celena Albatou".

The small property was relatively isolated from the rest of the town, but was an easy walking distance from the nearest grocery. The family had a small stable outside a long, one-floor home, but the humble abode was a clever disguise for the two-guymelef hangar that stood just inside the neighboring forest. It wasn't really a forest, per say; it was much more a large patch of trees that had been narrowed out to construct the buildings that it harbored.

It was around late afternoon when Allen and Antonio arrived. They stood atop a large hill that overlooked the house; the whole residence sat in a scenic valley, which ended only a few miles west of where the two now stood. The grass was green and lush, contradicting the descending winter. The autumn had been strangely mild, delivering a great deal of sun on Asturia and keeping the crops alive long enough to lengthen the harvest.

Traversing about on the paths below were two figures. One was tall and lanky, with white hair and skin. It walked at a lengthy stride, causing the smaller, darker figure beside it to run if it wanted to keep up.

"Chesta! Wilder!" Allen called from his horse. The smaller figure instantly looked up, while the taller one merely stopped mid-stride.

"Who's that?" Wilder asked, poking her brother and pointing to the two horses standing at the top of the hill. Chesta slowly looked up, barely registering the two visitors before looking back at his sister.

"Uncle Allen and cousin Antonio," he replied indifferently, turning back to the house.

"That's uncle Allen?! Wow!" Wilder cried, instantly taking off towards her newfound relatives. Chesta merely paced back to the house, disappearing into the front door to alert his parents.

Allen was just as surprised as his son when a small, dark blonde girl came bouncing wildly up the hill toward them. Antonio climbed off his horse - as was custom when greeting a lady - and bowed. He raised his gaze, regarding the short girl with inquisitive eyes.

She was a ball of excitement. Her long, slightly curly dark blonde hair bounced around her face, occasionally falling in front of her strange, diffused bergundy eyes. Her skin was a bizarre tan and her lips blood red. Antonio wondered if the little child was actually related to him.

"I'm Wilder!" the girl greeted, sticking out one hand. Antonio blinked, unsure of how to respond. Looking at the outstretched hand, he slowly responded by grasping it in his own and shaking slightly. Wilder's eyes lit up, and she grinned widely. Antonio couldn't help but smile back.

Allen got off his horse, leading it up beside the two cousins. "You remember Wilder," he confirmed to his son. Antonio nodded, but only slightly. 

"She was just little back then," he noted, watching as the little girl examined her much taller uncle with scrutinizing eyes.

"She still is little," Allen whispered, earning a laugh from the boy. Wilder furrowed her brow.

"You must be uncle Allen," she deducted, grabbing the bottom of his knightly coat in one hand. Allen's eyebrows raised in surprise as she pulled up the bottom, inspecting the sword at his side. "Mom's told me a lot about you."

Allen chuckled nervously, grabbing the coat out of her hands and tucking it back down. Wilder blinked, then shrugged and looked up. "I hope they were all good things," Allen laughed, patting the little girl's head. She nodded and turned.

"Come on! I'm sure Chesta already told mother you were here, so she'll have all kinds of goodies ready!" Wilder cried, motioning towards the house. "Brother and I will put your horses away," she added. Allen nodded, his son following suit.

Before long, the trio reached the stable. Chesta was already waiting, taking the two mounts without a word. His sister waved to Allen and Antonio before disappearing into the stalls with her brother to feed and water the animals.

"I don't really remember aunt Celena and uncle Dilandau," Antonio commented as they stood at the front door. "Well... I remember aunt Celena as having white hair and being really nice. But I don't think I met uncle Dilandau."

Allen shook his head. "I don't think you did either. He works a long ways off and Celena's said he doesn't come home often. He stays there for a few days and here for a few days," the man replied. "Apparently, the technician where he works is taking some kind of vacation. Without him the rest of them can't work, so Dilandau's taking a vacation as well." Antonio nodded in response. Despite his young age, the boy was incredibly mature and understood much about the working world and being an adult.

Celena came to the door, quickly opening it. She looked breathless, but smiled warmly nonetheless. "Welcome! Please excuse the wait, I was trying to get Dilandau into something decent and have some tea ready," she apologized, opening the door wide. Allen nodded, and Antonio smiled.

"That's alright, aunt Celena," the boy said kindly, nodding his head respectfully. Celena's pale blue eyes instantly brightened, and she ushered them both inside.

"You must be starving after your ride!" she supposed, leading them through the well-furnished foyer and into the kitchen. Allen nodded.

"It seems you're doing well," he commented, taking the seat offered to him at the main table. The kitchen was large, with a wide ice box near the back door and counters halfway around the room. The floor was tiled in stone, and a thick, well-woven rug lay beneath the table they sat at.

Celena brought over a tray of cups, saucers, and cookies, setting it in front of her two visitors. She took a seat, smiling widely at them both.

"It's been ages, Allen! How have you been? And Eries and Marlene?" she asked, crossing her hands on the table. Antonio took a cookie, tasting it experimentally before smiling widely.

"The girls couldn't come because Marlene came down with some kind of cold," Allen replied, taking a sip of his cup. He smiled at his sister, dipping a cookie in the tea.

"And Antonio, you've gotten so big!" Celena commented, tilting her head and looking the boy over. Antonio nodded graciously, setting his cup in his saucer. Suddenly, there was a loud shuffle and a sudden curse. Celena rolled her eyes, and Antonio watched the source of the sound - the hallway leading off the kitchen - with wide eyes.

Suddenly, a door at the end of the short hall flung open. Dilandau stepped out, rubbing a scratch on his face where a bit of stubble could still be seen. He wore a plain white shirt and traveling trousers, and his hair was barely brushed and pushed out of his face. 

The man stepped into the kitchen, not even noticing the two visitors as he took a cup, filling it with cold water out of the ice box. "Celena," he addressed, not looking up. "Wasn't that brother of yours and his brats supposed to be here?"

"We are."


	3. Chapter 3

**The White Dragon**

**The Lost Chapter Three**

Dilandau looked at the two men sitting at the table. Allen looked the same as he ever did, despite the fact he had trimmed his hair significantly. The boy, on the other hand, was the consummation of the word "pretty boy"; he had long, light blonde hair, large blue eyes, and a perfect light skinned face. Dilandau noted his complete resemblance to the Duke of Freid.

Celena tapped her fingers on the table, waiting for a response from her husband. He stood in silence, condescendingly sizing up his visitors. Keeping his glare focused on Allen, Dilandau sat at the table, glass of water in hand.

Suddenly, the door swung open, breaking the silence. Wilder ran inside, instantly spotting her father. The little girl jumped up onto Dilandau's lap, somehow making sure not to knock over his drink as she hugged him. "Chesta is a little late, he's brushing his hair," she announced. Dilandau nodded.

"He's got some sense, after all," he replied, patting the girl on the head before lifting her up into a better position on his lap. He seemed completely unaware of the two pairs of blue eyes on him from across the table; that, or he didn't care.

Wilder leaned forward on the table, inspecting her relatives. She directed her attention to Allen, who was frozen in shock at Dilandau's open display of affection with his daughter. "You're my uncle?" she asked. Allen nodded. "Then you're mama's brother?" Another nod. Wilder smiled widely. "Then you must have all kinds of stories about mama," she reasoned.

"Now Wilder," Dilandau addressed, "they just arrived. Let your mother have some speaking room." Wilder nodded, sitting back against her father's chest and yawning.

The door opened once more, drawing everyone's attention to the boy who walked slowly inside. Chesta closed it behind him, ignoring everyone in the room as he walked over to the ice box. Almost exactly like his father, the boy took out a glass of ice water before even bothering to notice his guests.

"Chesta, say hello to your uncle Allen and cousin Antonio," Celena instructed. Chesta looked up with a vacant expression, brushing some of his curly white hair out of his face.

"Hello," he said quietly, sipping his water. Putting the glass on the table, he walked over to where Dilandau sat. Chesta took Wilder's hand in his and tugged the confused girl off her father's lap, walking out of the kitchen with her in tow. Dilandau and Celena shot each other confused looks.

"Please excuse him. He just hasn't been himself lately," Celena apologized, staring at the still swinging kitchen door. Allen nodded, while Antonio stared at Dilandau. He looked away whenever the albino looked at him, but he couldn't seem to pull away. The man looked so evil and formidable, but was such a family man around his daughter and wife.

"I'll get you some more tea," Celena said, taking their cups and breaking the silence.

Wilder tilted, grabbing the top of the cupboard for support as she regained her balance on the chair she was standing on. "Mother, can you pull up that side?" she asked, pointing to the bottom of the wreath of flowers she was attaching to the top of the china case. Celena nodded, lifting it up with one hand as her daughter tied it to the small clips she had attached earlier.

"When are Chesta and father going to be back?" she asked, smoothing back her long, unruly dark blonde hair. Celena shrugged.

"They shouldn't be long now," she replied, helping her daughter off the chair. Wilder looked to be about ten years old, her hair having grown out and become more curly and smooth. Her eyes had become more of a deep amber, turning away from both the blue and red of her parents' colors.

The room was covered in flowers, and most of the tapestries Celena owned had been unrolled and now hung from the walls. A huge meal had been prepared, and the two women waited with patience as the sun went down for their men to arrive.

Dilandau was the first to walk into the room. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, surveying the room. "Well, you two sure went all out," he commented, inspecting a wreath hanging from the door. Celena nodded and hastily waved him towards her.

"Is Chesta coming in?" she asked. Dilandau nodded.

"He's putting the horses away," he replied. Wilder "shh"ed at them, watching the door intently.

It opened within seconds, a tall, white-haired boy stepping inside. He looked around curiously, before Dilandau, Celena, and Wilder all shouted at once: "Happy fifteenth birthday!" Chesta blinked, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He walked to where his family stood around a table, which was covered in wonderful foods.

"Thanks," he said quietly, taking a seat beside his sister.

Wilder yawned, nibbling on a piece of grass in her mouth. She lay on her back, arms crossed under her neck as she watched the waning sun in the distance. Chesta sat beside her, legs bent and elbows propped on his knees.

"Chesta," Wilder addressed, getting her brother's attention. "Do you ever wonder what else there is? What things we don't know, what places we haven't seen?"

Chesta furrowed his brow, before sighing and lying down beside her. "No. We have all we need right here, don't we?" he replied. Wilder stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

"Don't you ever want to go places and see new things, meet new people?" Chesta shook his head. "Then what do you want?"

"I never want to end up like father," he replied. Wilder looked over at him.

"What do you mean?"

"It's so obvious. You remember all the stories mother told us about the Great War? How she never mentioned father, then suddenly became close to him five or ten years later? Mother never talks about when she was younger. You know why?" Wilder shook her head. "Because she doesn't know, she doesn't remember. Something big happened, and we will never know what it is. I've been hunting with father; he isn't a normal man. He's a killer. He knows how to kill, both with his sword and with his guymelef. You and I have both seen him fight."

Wilder looked at her brother, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Papa is not a killer! Papa loves us very much," she argued, her lip trembling. Chesta watched her with a neutral expression.

"He does, I suppose," he replied, looking back up. "Remember how father said he was in the army?" Wilder nodded. "He was. He just wasn't on our side. He fought for Zaibach."

"How do you know that?" Wilder asked, sniffling. Chesta looked at her, his face serious.

"I was going through the attic, and I found his Zaibach jacket. I know enough history to know; he wasn't just a soldier. He was a general." Wilder let out a sudden cry, grabbing onto her brother's arm. She sobbed into it, trembling all over.

"Father isn't a killer! Father is a good man and he loves us!" she cried between sobs. Chesta sighed, sitting up and pulling her into a hug. Rocking her back and forth, he didn't know what else to say.

Chesta disappeared that summer. Dilandau wanted to hold a funeral, but Celena refused to give up hope. Wilder's once buoyant and childishly happy personality disappeared. Her parents tried to comfort her, but they were too distraught themselves to be much of a pillar of support.

When Wilder turned thirteen, there came word that Palas had been destroyed. No one knew by what; someone called them the invisible giants. One night, Dilandau took Wilder into his study and tried his best to tell her his story. From having no memory before the age of seven or eight to his command of the dragonslayers to the war and his and Celena's marriage, he tried his best to keep the shock at a minimum.

Wilder seemed no worse for the wear. All the survivors of Palas and many of the country inhabitants of Asturia were evacuated to the nearby country of Fanelia, even at Celena's violent objection. Dilandau assured her that he would avoid the palace at all costs.

The virus of the invisible giants was spreading. Rumor of a "Black Dragon Clan" as causing the destruction grew rapidly. Chezario was destroyed in the fall of Wilder's thirteenth year.

Rather than staying in Fanelia's capital with the rest of the refugees, Dilandau and his family were invited to stay with Allen and Eries on their country estate. Marlene had died of an unknown sickness only a year or more before, and the family was still struggling with their loss. Wilder, in need of a brother figure, instantly gelled to her cousin Antonio, and he the same to her. It was to him that the girl revealed all of her and her family's secrets.

But Wilder was constantly curious. She had heard stories of Fanelia before; the king was a tall, dark man, who was the hero of the Great War. It was widely rumored that he had married a woman who came from the Mystic Moon and was the savior of Gaea. Using this information as a motive, Wilder decided to pay the palace a visit.


End file.
